Did You On That Day When The Sky Cut
Did you on that day when the sky cut
Stood fearfully beyond the earth of Void
A voiceless thought to spill
With the light the lightning when you
Touched the Heights
Did you on that day with the scream in a key
Unlock yourself at the gate of your Brother
Dali si onog dana kada je rasporeno nebo
Stajalo strašno nad zemljom Praznine
Da prospe iz sebe misao bez glasa
Svjetlom munjom spržen kad si
Dotako Visine
Dali si tog dana s urlikom u kljucu
Otključao sebe na kapiji Brata
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
Šta tece sad
šta tece sad
pomisli rijeka
suznoga oka razjapljen slap
i kuda ide
i koga ceka
s ugaslog oka zapaljena kap
i s cim se miri
i za cim cezne
kad zamre u sjenci korita
i kojem bicu
dok duša grezne
sa mreže dlana misao cita
i koga sanja
i koga voli
i kojem izvoru žurno hrli
s ledom u srži
kada zaboli
mije li sebe
dali me grli
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Da Da Dali
Dada dali goodbye, dada dali dont sigh
Your soft alarm clocks quake me
So boil your beans and meet me at perignon station
Crutch me dali again, lobster telephone friend
Stay in your seat, watch what you eat
If you dont get a dead mule then youll know Im in heat
Dada dali hello, dada dali youre just another onionhead
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A wish
I wish I could die like a plant
To silently fade out and never let my voice
I wish I could live like a plant
To close my buds facing the knowledge of pain
I wish I could walk the earth unheard
To sneak among the trees and spikes
I wish I could be silent
Like a plant
Želja
Voljela bih da umrem kao biljke
Da se tiho gasim i glasa od sebe da ne dam
Voljela bih da živim kao biljke
Da sklopim latice pred spoznajom boli
Voljela bih da necujno hodam zemljom
Da se šunjam kroz drvece i klasja
Voljela bih da mogu da cutim
Kao biljke
1991.
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Hod
Hodi tmina čari tmurne
Daha presječenog
Tu je jutrom zora gurne
Od sna nerečenog
Hodi podne nebu sunca
Noći gaze svijetom
Sve pepelno sebe bunca
Sebe zove prvim letom
Hodi čovjek šume guste
Zgazile ga vode
Gdje ga tope suze puste
Tu ga tuge hode
Hodi ptica sinja mora
Hodi nebo oblak tmast
Hodi tmasto do izvora
Da utopi hoda vlast
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Dali
High, in Castille,
Lives senora Dali alone.
And higher still
She keeps her gallery.
Distance means nothing to me.
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo,
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo...
Debris everywhere,
Gazing. It's amazing.
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over
The music, Dali.
Deeper here lies hidden answers and treasures for him.
"Oh, I prefer absence," said she,
"My heart grows fonder alone."
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo,
A-ee-aha-ee-aha-oo...
Debris everywhere,
Gazing. It's amazing.
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over,
Ferry me over
The music, Dali.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunately I am not one of those beings who when they smile are apt to expose remnants, however small, of horrible and degrading spinach clinging to their teeth.
Salvador Dali in The Secret Life of Salvador Dali (1942)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I detest spinach because of its utterly amorphous character....the only good, noble and edible thing to be found in that sordid nourishment is the sand.
Salvador Dali in The Secret Life of Salvador Dali (1942)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure - that of being Salvador Dali.
quote by Salvador Dali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since the blood of the country is eternal and immortal, and because in the same royal artery blows Trajan's triumphal march and in order to be, like him, again and always the first of the human race, I proclaim myself Salvador Dalí, catholic, apostolic, Roman and Romanian.
Salvador Dali in Oui! à la Roumanie (January 1972), translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Charles And Peter
Ere Gabriel's note to silence died
All graves of men were gaping wide.
Then Charles A. Dana, of 'The Sun,'
Rose slowly from the deepest one.
'The dead in Christ rise first, 't is writ,'
Quoth he-'ick, bick, ban, doe,-I'm It!'
(His headstone, footstone, counted slow,
Were 'ick' and 'bick,' he 'ban' and 'doe':
Of beating Nick the subtle art
Was part of his immortal part.)
Then straight to Heaven he took his flight,
Arriving at the Gates of Light.
There Warden Peter, in the throes
Of sleep, lay roaring in the nose.
'Get up, you sluggard!' Dana cried
'I've an engagement there inside.'
The Saint arose and scratched his head.
'I recollect your face,' he said.
'(And, pardon me, 't is rather hard),
But--' Dana handed him a card.
'Ah, yes, I now remember-bless
My soul, how dull I am I-yes, yes,
'We've nothing better here than bliss.
Walk in. But I must tell you this:
'We've rest and comfort, though, and peace.'
'H'm-puddles,' Dana said, 'for geese.
'Have you in Heaven no Hell?' 'Why, no,'
Said Peter, 'nor, in truth, below.
''T is not included in our scheme-
'T is but a preacher's idle dream.'
The great man slowly moved away.
'I'll call,' he said, 'another day.
'On earth I played it, o'er and o'er,
And Heaven without it were a bore.'
'O, stuff!-come in. You'll make,' said Pete,
'A hell where'er you set your feet.'
1885.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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What Made The Breathing So Soft And So Silent-Ono Što Je Uč İ nilo Disanje Tako Mekanim İ Tako Tihim
when the pillows choked a feather made dream
was the sound of the wells mute to the light of day
their water still dripping right through my hands
not a single dropp could contain the thought
ono što je uč inilo disanje tako mekanim i tako tihim
kad su jastuci ugušili paperjasti san
bješe zvuk bunara nijemih za svjetlost dana
njihova mi voda još teč e kroz šake
nijedna kap nije mogla da uhvati misao
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Repulsion is the sentry that guards the gate to all that we most desire.
quote by Salvador Dali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Frank's painting on the cover. We were originally going to use a Salvador Dali painting that we got permission from Salvador Dali to use, and Frank found this one, and it really did fit the music much more.
quote by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A descendant of fire
what became first - fire or ash
'you'll melt like a candle in a little pool of wax
a face sealed by the spirit of wax
you'll burn like thoughts on a bonfire of words
for you are the fire that burns itself'
an arsonist said with wax in his eyes
'in a homeless whisper you're a broken flamelet
in the time of fire that swallows itself'
but a particle of ash is a fire descendant
and to burn is its wisdom
šta je prvo nastalo - vatra ili pepeo
'istopiceš se ko svijeca u barici voska
duhom voska zapecacen lik
goreceš ko misli na lomaci rijeci
jer ti si vatra koja samu sebe prži
rece mi palikuca sa voskom u ocima
'u bezdomnom šapatu spaljeni žižak
u vremenu vatre koja samu sebe guta'
ali cestica pepela potomak je vatre
i da gori njena je mudrost
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Mean Old World
(andy fraser)
Look around, my brother
Theres a world at your command
Youd realize it
If youd only lift your head up from your hands
Sail away from your troubles
Free as a bird up in the sky
Paradise is waiting in your mind
Aint no use sat complaining
Woman, that life dont go our way
Idly wishing that tomorrow
Will come save us from today
Being tired of living with no money in your hand
Trying to find someone to understand
Its a mean ol world
But its up to us
To make it heaven, here and now
Its a mean ol world
But its up to us
To make it heaven, here and now
So come on, lets get together
Sharing in love and happiness
Dah etc, whooo etc
Yeah its a mean ol world
But its up to us
To make it heaven, here and now
Whooo etc, dana dana etc
song performed by by Robert Palmer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have Dalinian thought: the one thing the world will never have enough of is the outrageous.
quote by Salvador Dali
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was not put on this earth to listen to meat!
quote by Dana Snyder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Beat Of Sorrow That Thinks Of Beauty/Otkucaj Tuge Sto Ljepotu Mni
it takes a memory that runs over itself
to get to learn and endless southern rhythm
it takes a fire that burns itself down
to get to know an ocean wave
it takes tender enough strong enough fingers
to summerize anything into a touch
so that the heard amidst the things could recognise
a beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
it takes much more and reaches much stronger
to ask for more to search and look
so as to eventually know
the one in the seed of wake planted
the being cut off from itself
into the cliffs of the world pushed forever
it takes a huge knowledge an endless one
of this world's drama
for just one beat of sorrow that thinks of beauty
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je sjećanje koje samo sebe gazi
da bi se spoznao beskrajni ritam juga
potrebna je vatra koja samu sebe spaljuje
da bi se spoznao okeanov talas
potrebni su dovoljno nježni i snažni prsti
da bi se išta saželo u dodir
da bi srce u srži svega moglo da prepozna
otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
potrebno je mnogo više mnogo snažnije
da se ište dalje da se traži
da bi se najzad saznalo
ono u sjemenu buđenja začeto
od sebe samog otkinuto biće
u urvine svijeta zauvijek bačeno
potrebno je jedno veliko beskrajno veliko
poznavanje drame ovog svijeta
za samo jedan otkucaj tuge što ljepotu mni
1990.
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The child removes the sky and earth
The child pushes the borders of the possible
The child sees the sky
The child sees the earth
The child is thinking I am made of the sky
The child removes the sky
The way the mother peels the apple
The child sees the earth below
The child is thinking I am made of earth
The child removes the earth
The way the father digs the foundations
The child sees the fire below
The child is thinking I am made of fire
The child removes the fire
The child is thinking I am made of nothing
Lit by fire
Dressed in earth
Covered by the sky
Dijete sklanja nebo i zemlju
Dijete pomjera granice moguć eg
Dijete vidi nebo
Dijete vidi zemlju
Dijete misli od neba sam
Dijete sklanja nebo
Kao što majka ljušti jabuku
Dijete vidi zemlju ispod
Dijete misli od zemlje sam
Dijete sklanja zemlju
Kao kad otac kopa temelje
Dijete vidi vatru ispod
Dijete misli od vatre sam
Dijete sklanja vatru
Dijete misli od nič eg sam
Vatrom zapaljen
Zemljom obuč en
Nebom pokriven
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Prayer
Echo of the clocktower, footstep
in the alleyway, sweep
of the wind sifting the leaves.
Jeweller of the spiderweb, connoisseur
of autumn’s opulence, blade of lightning
harvesting the sky.
Keeper of the small gate, choreographer
of entrances and exits, midnight
whisper travelling the wires.
Seducer, healer, deity or thief,
I will see you soon enough—
in the shadow of the rainfall,
in the brief violet darkening a sunset—
but until then I pray watch over him
as a mountain guards its covert ore
and the harsh falcon its flightless young.
poem by Dana Gioia
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